


Your Creation

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Kylux Hard Kinks, M/M, Piercings, Tattoos, body mods, kylo has a lot of insecurities, tattoo artist hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is a tattoo artist by day, does body mods out of a van by night. Kylo is fascinated. </p><p>Or</p><p>Hux knows just how to take care of Kylo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Creation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for this prompt on [@kyluxhardkinks](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/145973440020/body-mod-au-a-harder-kink-version-of-saint) although I kinda went off the rails.
>
>> Body mod AU (a harder kink version of Saint Vader's art). Hux runs a tattoo shop, and Kylo is his heavily modded sub. BUT Kylo doesn't have any say in the mods he gets, it is totally up to Hux to decide how he wants to mark his possession. Extra points for facial tattooing and genital piercing.
> 
> Thanks to [@saintvader](http://saintvader.tumblr.com/) for all the inspiration.
> 
> Because we think with one mind [@artyaouter](http://artyaourter.tumblr.com/) actually already filled this prompt [here](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/146027350856/artyaourter-considering-his-canvas-still) and talked me through all my weirdness over this fic.

_The bar is packed._

_And Kylo looks around for anyone he recognizes, another regular, work boots scuffed, pants slightly torn, t-shirt sweat stained. But in the press of people, there's not a single face he recognizes. And that's odd enough in and of itself. Even stranger is how many of the people are young, his age. And Fisher's doesn't get that a lot. He'd been stared at the first three months he'd started to come around, stared out till he bought enough cheap beer, sat staring into his pint glass long enough._

_When he finally makes his way to the bar, Jim just shrugs at him, says something about the boys leaving when they saw the crowd._

_And Kylo thinks about doing that too._

_But he's been coming to Fisher's every Friday for the past five months, and he'll be damned if he breaks the streak._

_(At the back of his mind, Kylo knows that's nonsensical. But that's why it's at the back of his mind and stays there. Then he doesn't need to think too hard about it.)_

_When Jim finally passes him his beer, Kylo's wedged himself into the corner at the end of the bar, is trying to ignore the push of people, the stink of perfume and sweat. And for once, just for this once, he's glad of his broad shoulders, of the way that people shrink away from them, from his height._

_From his face, eyes hard, long hair a little greasy._

_Right now, though, he's glad of that face, because he can curl into himself, can hunch over his beer, and sip in relative comfort. Except as he's nearing the end, there's a jostle at his elbow. And Kylo almost tips over the glass where it's perched precariously on the edge of the bar – no other room. He curses, sharp, loud enough that the girls wedged next to him all shrink back, and he curses again._

_It seems he's not going to be relaxing at the bar tonight.  
He catches Jim's eye, nods, grimaces. And Jim gives him a sort of “what can you do” shrug. And then Kylo's sliding off his stool, shoving his way through the crowd. He only gets half way to the door though. Then, elbow as he might, he simply can't get people to move. _

_It's infuriating._

_And he's steaming by the time he makes it back over to the bar, waves to Jim. When Jim finally looks over, he gives a half hearted wave at the staff only door, a sharp jerk of his shoulders in question. Jim nods, an empty glass waving in one hand._

_The staff room is blessedly quiet, at least compared to the bar. There's a dull roar in the background, of course, but a solid wood door between him and the crowd works wonders. Kylo thinks for a minute about the couch hunched against one wall, about collapsing onto it, getting himself back under control before he tries to make his way home. But it's just prolonging the inevitable, the dark, and the pit in his stomach as he sits on his bed._

_Unwanted._

_And so he forces his feet to keep moving, his mind to stop churning. The door screams as he pushes it open, metal this time. And he takes a deep breath, a gasp that turns into a cough as he realizes that he's not alone._

_There's a gaggle of people clustered in the alley behind the bar._

_A van parked down at one end._

_White._

_And there's a buzz, a hum of low conversation, excited voices. A girl – woman – turns to him as he slips out of the bar, and he catches a glint of metal in the low light, the flash of studs under her lips. She looks away thought, uninterested. And Kylo wonders – a drug sale? But that can't be right, not with the bright lights he can see peaking out of the van, the clear faces of the people who are clustered on the narrow street. And Kylo thinks he should leave, that there is no reason to keep him here._

_This is not his problem._

_But then a man comes out of the van. And his smile is an odd thing. Too wide for the pain Kylo sees twisting his eyes into harsh knots in his face. And there's a bandage around his chest, surgical tape shining in the low lights of the alley._

_So Kylo waits._

_Watches._

_And over the next hour, three more people disappear into the van, make their way out with bright eyes, strange, sharp smiles. He still not sure what happening. But he wants. In an odd, trembling feeling in the pit of his stomach, he wants. Those smiles, that joy. That quirk of the lips that seems to flutter out from the people leaving the van._

_But no one goes in after an hour. Instead, instead a man comes out. Kylo's breath catches. Because even more than before, Kylo wants. He wants to run careful hands over that sharp collar, the starched white shirt. To fumble trembling fingers over those thin arms, map out the the narrow black lines that cross back and forth on that pale skin._

_Bury his face in bright copper hair._

_He watches all night._

_It must be one AM, and Kylo has slumped against a wall. The man has been out twice, has smoked a cigarette each time, lips pursed around it. Chatted with the people clumped together in the dark. A few of them have glanced to Kylo from time to time. But, blessedly, none have asked why he is still there. Kylo wouldn't know what to answer. He can't leave though. Not after he caught the red-haired man's eyes some two hours ago._

_Now he can't leave. Not yet._

_“Still here, are you?”_

_Kylo gasps. He's had his head down, eyes tired. And there are a pair of boots in front of him. Scuffed. Dark. And narrow jeans. A vest. A crisp white shirt, now a little crumpled. A pair of black glasses. Bright hair. He nods, breath caught in his throat._

_“Well, come on then.”_

***

“I just... you know how I feel about my ears.”

Hux makes a sharp click in his throat, frustration bubbling up in his stomach. And then he runs a quick finger over Kylo's face, flicks at the titanium that sits just below his pouting lower lip. 

“And you know what I'm going to say, Kylo. If you don't want this, you know what to say. If you're just questioning my decisions, we're going to deal with that right now.” And Kylo leans into Hux's hand, but then he he opens his mouth. 

“Hux...” And its too much. That's not the word, the one word that will get Kylo out of this. And Hux has heard about it for weeks. He's done. Kylo hasn't used his out, and Hux can't keep doing this. Instead, Kylo doubts. He questions. And Hux had thought, had been sure, that they were past that. That they had found their place here, together. He's waited so long for this, just so that Kylo was ready, so Kylo had learned enough. So he'd written enough of himself over Kylo's skin, in metal and blood and ink, that Kylo would trust him with this. Would trust him to know best. 

But it seems Kylo needs a reminder. 

He holds up a hand, fingers twitching a little in frustration. And at least, at least at this Kylo falls silent, snaps his mouth shut, blinks. 

“I have had enough. I am going to sleep. I want you to think about what you've done wrong tonight, Kylo. I want you to think about why you keep talking about this, even though I have humored you already and explained my ideas. You're going to do it here, in this room. Since you don't seem willing to follow my instructions, you'll not be sleeping in my bed tonight. I expect a well-thought-out explanation of what you've done, why it is wrong, and how you will do better in the future when I wake up in the morning.”

And he walks into the bedroom. 

And shuts the door. 

And usually, usually he doesn't have to correct Kylo so harshly. But this has gone too far. He decides what goes on Kylo's body, makes the choices, Kylo agrees. Or not, but the whole point of this, this arrangement between them, is that Kylo trusts that he knows best. That Kylo accepts Hux's guidance, and in return Hux makes the decisions that Kylo can't make, helps catch Kylo when he stumbles. Keeps Kylo afloat no matter what. 

And that only works if they both hold up their end of things. 

If Kylo accepts Hux's help. Hux won't, can't wrap himself around Kylo Ren and every moment of heartbreak, pain, every screamed word and broken sob that happens from time to time, unless he knows that in the end, Kylo will do as he says, will let himself be helped. 

And now, looking at the sketch in front of him, he shakes his head. This is going to be right for Kylo. He knows it. Because Kylo will be so beautiful. He is already so beautiful. Yet he can't see it, doesn't notice when he looks in the mirror. And Hux knows, is certain, just as he always it, that this will let Kylo see. 

***

_Kylo isn't sure about this._

_And it's the first time that has happened. He tongues at the piercings below his lip, still new and a little strange. And he'd always hated his chin, the odd lopsided way his lip pooches out at the corner. The way his mouth has always looked too big, too soft for his face._

_But now, with the shine of metal, the glint as he catches a glimpse of himself in Hux's mirror, he smiles. Because finally, finally he feels like his mouth is beautiful._

_And he knows that it isn't actually the jewelry. It isn't the shine or even the feel of metal shifting against his skin. It's the fact that Hux put them there. That Hux took the time to judge just where the would look best. That Hux believes him beautiful enough._

_And it's been that way since the beginning. Since Hux pulled him up off the street in that alley, stroked and petted his hair that night in bed. Since Hux tied Kylo down, told him that he would take care of everything._

_Since Hux took care of him._

_And when Kylo woke up that first morning, to the smell of pancakes and the sting of deep slashes down his back, narrow lines of a too-sharp knife, he has been certain of one thing. If Hux were to lead him to a cliff and ask him to jump, he would. Because Hux would know best._

_Hux would guide him to the right point._

_And Kylo isn't sure how he knows, only that at some point that first night – maybe when Hux ordered him to his knees, maybe when Hux tied his feet to the bedposts, maybe as Hux pushed into him, thick cock sliding slow inside – something clicked. Something that had always felt loose, felt unfocused, suddenly had purpose and meaning and life._

_And he would bind himself to that purpose in a heartbeat._

_So it's strange, the flutter he feels in his knees as he sinks down onto the couch in Hux's shop. (He'd been surprised to learn Hux had a shop at all. But he only does his more extreme work out of the van, a sort of traveling shop peddling elf ears and subdermals. For the more mainstream stuff, there's the shop, a slick floor of grey and black, low backed couches, a few more junior artists, an extra piercer. And Hux)_

_And Hux, with his hand as steady with a needle, with a hemostat, with a bandage. And Hux, who is Kylo's now. And that makes Kylo's heart beat a little faster yet._

_“Kylo! You're here already!” Hux smiles at him, that strange glimmer he gets every time he adds something to the growing collection of ink that winds its way around Kylo's arms, torso, legs, chest. He comes up to Kylo, reaches down, takes Kylo's hands._

_And the world dissolves into the space between them. There's nothing but Hux, holding Kylo's hands as they shake slightly. Nothing both Hux's breath against his lips, the few inches that remain between them._

_“Nervous?” Hux sounds curious. And suddenly, suddenly, Kylo understands._

_“Yes. What if... what if you stop wanting me? What if you put this on me, put a mark that's really yours, and then you stop wanting me. You'll be so disgusted. I'll be walking around with your signature on me, and you'll be so disappointed that you wasted it on my. You will be, Hux. I've sure of it.” And Kylo is panting by the end of it, so certain that if Hux does this, inscribes the symbol that he chose so long ago to be his signature on his art onto Kylo's skin, then Kylo will not being able to live up to it. He will never measure up to that careful circle, that hexagon that means Hux's soul. Hux breaths out, brushes his lips against Kylo's._

_“I'm sure. And I will always be sure about what I choose for you, Kylo.”_

***

Kylo is curled on the floor outside the door when Hux steps out of the bedroom the next morning. And there are tear tracks still visible across his face. But he was quite all night, and Hux brushes his hair our of his face and he kneels down to wake Kylo up. 

“H-Hux? Is it morning?” His voice is muzzy with sleep. When Hux nods, though, Kylo sits bolt upright. And his eyes are bright, focused. 

“Are you ready to explain yourself, Kylo?” And Hux isn't frustrated anymore, isn't upset. But the correction needs to be carried through with, Kylo needs to learn. When Kylo nods – and thank goodness he isn't speaking out of turn now – Hux smiles at him. “Go on then.”

“I've been a brat, Hux, sir. And it's not that I don't trust you. I swear it isn't.” And Hux hears him start to tear up, but says nothing. Kylo needs this, needs to feel the weight of his shame at _breaking the rules._ “I'm... I'm ready.” And Hux smiles, grins so wide. Because this is what he needed to hear. The tremor in Kylo's voice, the hand reaching out, then pulling back when Kylo realizes he doesn't have permission yet. Making it's way back to the floor where it wraps around Kylo's knees. 

This. 

And Kylo's smile when Hux strokes a slow hand through his hair. His sigh at Hux's touch. The way he tilts his head when Hux fingers over his ears. The slight whimper as Hux strokes at them. And Kylo's always been so self conscious about them, so worried. But now, now Hux is going to change that. 

***

“Kylo.” Hux's voice snaps. “We've talked about this.” Several times in the five months since Hux finished the work on the second ear, actually. And it's minor, but Hux wants it fixed now. And Kylo is already rushing to pull his hair back, to push it away. 

Hux runs a soft finger over the curve of Kylo's left ear. And then he teases it, flicks over the pointed tip, leans in closer. 

“These are beautiful, Kylo. I made them, and they are beautiful. Do you not want to show off my work?” He doesn't wait for Kylo to answer. “I don't believe that. I made you, a perfect work of art. Stop hiding it from the world.” Kylo sighs into the curve of Hux's hand, nods slowly. 

“Your creation.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts on the premise: this is set in a world/country where more extreme mods - ear pointing, tongue splitting etc are illegal, and thus Hux does them out of his van. Bear with me. Also, don't actually get your ears pointed in an van parked behind a bar, even if the artist looks like Hux. 
> 
> [@kegareta](http://kegareta.tumblr.com/) definitely gave me all the initial help on this fic. Thanks, dear!


End file.
